Tymber Dalton - Bightmares

Or Kels’ death.

He looked to his other side. Ford lay there, his blue eyes open and staring at him, a worried look on his face. Ford always knew when he had a nightmare. Too many times over the years, Ford had proved his sole link to sanity. “You okay, Cap?” Ford asked.

Aaron nodded.

“You haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

He nodded again.

Ford lifted his head so he could see Emi. She still slept soundly on Aaron’s other side, curled against Caph. They didn’t have to get up for several hours yet. Ford shifted position so he could slip his arms around Aaron. The other man closed his eyes, rested his head against Ford’s chest, and silently wept.

Ford twined his fingers through Aaron’s hair and tightly held him. “I’m here,” Ford whispered in his ear. “It’s okay. Just another bad dream. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“I hate those fucking dreams! Why are they starting again? Why won’t they go away?”

“It’s okay,” Ford softly soothed. “You’re okay. Go back to sleep, Aar. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Safe in his husband’s arms, with Ford’s heartbeat soft in his ear as he kept his face pressed against his chest, that’s what Aaron finally did.

Dr. Emilia Hypatia stared at the front vid screens as Earth slowly slid away, the New Phoenix desert shrinking beneath them as their altitude increased.

She swallowed hard, her stomach a bundle of nerves. The simulator experience hadn’t prepared her for this. Not at all. Three hours after the actual lift process had started, her initial excitement to be heading into space for the first time waned, and she felt…

Sick.

Literally.

Caph started to say something, but she didn’t hear him. She was too busy bolting for the bridge head. As she knelt beside the bowl and retched, she sensed Caph’s large, comforting presence push inside the tiny room with her. His hands gently gathered her hair at the nape of her neck to keep it out of her way.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll get over it soon.”

She shook her head, her eyes tightly squeezed shut as another round of nausea hit. Thank the gods for the crew compatibility chips. Besides guaranteeing fidelity amongst the crew and protecting against forced sexual situations, they also acted as foolproof birth control.

Otherwise, Emi might suspect something else. Especially considering how much time she’d spent in bed with one or more of her men over the past several months.

“How is she?” Ford’s voice drifted to them from his place at the console.

She felt Caph lean away from her, outside the door. “She’ll be okay in a minute. You know how it is.”

Emi tightly gripped the toilet and held on. Even through her nausea, she sensed Caph and the other men knew exactly why she felt sick. “What’s wrong with me?” she managed, spitting into the bowl.

She heard water run, and then Caph pressed a wet washcloth against her hand. She took it and wiped her face.

“Nerves, along with a heaping dose of space sickness. It’ll pass. Some people are way more sensitive than others to it. Since you’re an empath, it makes sense it’d hit you really hard.”

“I didn’t feel like this in the simulation.” She’d felt a lot of things in the original simulation, a surprise two-hour session when she first applied for a position with the Deep Space Mission Corps. All four of them went through it, making them think they’d spent a year together instead of two hours inside a sim unit. She knew a little about space sickness but had never experienced it before.

Because in real life, she’d never been in space.

Caph tenderly stroked her shoulders with his large hands. While the tallest, largest, and beefiest of the three men, he wasn’t muscle-bound. His broad shoulders and chest tapered into a narrow waist and gorgeously tight ass. Even bigger than his body was his fragile, sensitive heart.

“You can’t sim this, baby. I felt sick for a week my first time out. It’s something to do with the grav plate system, I think. Some people don’t get sick at all, some people fight it for a couple of weeks. You’ll be okay once you adjust to it.”

She felt Aaron’s presence, and then heard his voice outside the head door. “I made her some ginger tea, Caph.”

“Thanks, Aar.” Caph helped her stand. She washed her face before rinsing her mouth and spitting again. When the lift process had started a few hours earlier, she’d eagerly anticipated leaving Earth for the first time, spending a minimum of five years on this vessel—and a whole lifetime with her men.

Her husbands.

She turned to Caph. His brilliant green eyes pierced her. “You all right, Emi?”

“I’ll be okay.” Another bout of nausea threatened. “I don’t think I’ll stray too far from a head, though.”

Caph stepped out and let her move past him. She gratefully took the offered steaming mug of tea from Aaron. His deep brown eyes studied her, his gaze full of concern.

“You sure you’re okay, Em?”

She sipped. He’d added just enough sugar to cut the bitterness. “I’ll live. I’ll go to sick bay and do a little self-medicating.”

Ford snorted from his seat at the console. “Good luck with that, sugar. Usually the anti-nausea meds don’t work against space sickness.”

She frowned. Okay, so admittedly she hadn’t researched space medicine very thoroughly. Dr. Graymard had told her not to worry about it. He’d said what little she needed to know in addition to her already extensive Earth-based knowledge, she could easily bone up on during their mission. She’d been too busy focusing on learning her non-medical duties on board the enormous ship.

Not to mention she’d been very busy boinking her brains out.

“Why don’t the anti-nausea meds work?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the doc.” His blue eyes playfully twinkled. A few inches taller than her own five-seven, Ford stood the shortest and slimmest of the three men. Dark hair, trimly built, and athletically muscled, his movements possessed a svelte, catlike grace.

He was also their resident motormouth.

She glared at him while taking another sip of tea. “You’re a smart-ass, Ford.”

“You should know. You’ve examined it.”

She rolled her eyes as Caph laughed. Even Aaron smiled. “That’s enough, Ford,” Aaron said. “Don’t bust her balls too much on her first lift. If I remember correctly, you spent a lot of time hugging the head on our very first trip off this rock.”

Ford snorted. “Don’t remind me.”

Aaron gently guided her to her console seat. “Sit here for a minute while you finish that. It’ll help. It’s a natural anti-nausea remedy.”

Her stomach did feel marginally better. “Why didn’t you guys warn me about this?”

Caph shrugged his massive shoulders. “Sorry, babe. Didn’t think about it. We’ve been doing this for twenty years, remember? It’s old hat to us. I haven’t felt space sick in a long time.”

Ford turned from his console. “After you finish that tea, I’ll go put you to bed.”

“Sorry, no offense, but I don’t think I’m in the mood.” Her stomach took another dangerous lurch, barely righting itself in time. “In fact, I know I’m not.”

Ford rolled his eyes and smiled. “Honey, I didn’t say I would take you to bed, did I? I said put you to bed. I’ve got an awesome chicken soup recipe that will help keep your tummy settled.”

The very thought of eating nearly made her puke again. “I’m not sure I can tolerate that right now.”

“You can’t keep dry heaving. You have to put something in there to come back up. Dry heaves are the worst. Trust me on this one.”